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

Page 8 text:

The Conductor Jonathan Bug was a lightning fiend. When I say fiend, I don’t mean that he was crazy or addicted to murder, but that he had one ob- session — lightning. At the early age of six, he had seen all the livestock on the farm on which he lived wiped out completely by what seemed to be a concen- trated electrical storm. The horses, cows, pigs, and chickens went, along with his father, who had been hurrying to get the cattle into the barn. He vaguely remembered hearing what seemed to be a derisive laugh above the howling wind, just before his father had been struck down. Three years later his mother had been killed by a bolt of lightning during a quick- breaking thunderstorm in which they had no time to seek cover. Although he had been knocked flat, Jonathan was unharmed. Again he had heard the howl of laughter, and from then on he was deathly afraid of lightning be- cause he believed it was out to get” him next. The farm was now abandoned, Jonathan being shipped off to the state orphanage, where he spent the next three years of his life seek- ing cover from thunderstorms in the darkest corners of the cellar in the institution. Finally he ran away to a part of the country where electrical storms were less frequent, and there studied lightning and various ways to stop or arrest it. When he came of age, the farm be- came his, and he moved back, his strategy planned to outwit the lightning menace. The lightning god, high up in his clouds, chuckled to himself as he saw Jonathan fever- ishly erecting lightning rods on his house. Such a display of rods you never saw before in your life: small ones, large fancy ones, all grounded by a maze of wires running into the earth. Thus began the colorful but brief career of Jonathan. The god of lightning saw Jonathan proudly surveying his work, and, gathering the black ominous clouds into a thunderstorm, struck with blazing fury at the house. Jonathan saw the tempest coming and, ducking into the house, laughed at the furious efforts of the lightning to penetrate his elaborate defense of lightning rods. The lightning god at first shrieked with anger, but he soon calmed down and with- drew laughing into his clouds. Since he had been pestering the people of the earth for over a million years, he could afford to wait until Jonathan would slip up. Although Jonathan was highly pleased with his results, he soon became afraid that the rods weren’t enough and he set to work to build more protection. He insulated one room completely, walls, floor, everything with rubber (this, of course, was before the rubber shortage) even to having a rubber curtain to fasten over the windows. He went so far as to wear rubber soled shoes all the time. One day he started thinking that he might be caught out in the fields; so he built a number of shacks about the size of a telephone booth, spacing them at intervals easily accessible from any part of the fields. These also were insulated with rubber and were topped by a large lightning rod. At the first sign of a storm he dashed for a booth and stayed there until it was over. One day Jonathan became too engrossed in the farm work and didn’t notice a storm sneak- ing upon him until almost too late. He had no sooner reached a shelter than a terrific bolt of lightning struck where he had been an in- stant before. That incident irritated Jonathan, and for

Page 7 text:

THE SCREECH OWL 5 you will want a position. The reply will be a pleasant Sorry, Miss, but we want a high school graduate, a college graduate, if possible. The young man who found homework and school such a bother will perhaps apply for some specialized work in the service. A hope will collapse with a curt, I’m sorry. Son, but we want boys with as much education as pos- sible. Time is short and we need trained men in a hurry. It takes brains, too, to win a war.” So you thought you were smart! Because education was free and cost you nothing, you threw it away. You threw away your own chances and never stopped to think about it. This havoc will not last forever. It will be for us, the young, to uphold and preserve the ideals our brothers fought for. Wars cannot be won without defense workers, but peace can- not be preserved without education. Those who are yet in school have a duty to themselves and to their country. That duty is to continue their education and go on to col- lege, if possible. It will be a pity if you throw away your chances to fit yourself for a place in the post- war world. You have the opportunity now; make the most of it. Anne Chodynicky, ’44. Hs Our Fine Assemblies My purpose in writing this editorial is not to review the monthly assemblies that we have had the pleasure of enjoying, as that is done in another section of this magazine, but to give credit for them where it is due, and that certainly is mainly to the teachers. In past years when no one person was in com- plete charge of each program, students were chosen more or less haphazardly to take part. The resulting performance many times was not properly coordinated, not woven into one uni- fied whole. The present system of having one teacher produce a program each month has certainly proved to be worthwhile, for the test of a high school assembly is the attentiveness of the young audience. The teachers, becoming acquainted with the abilities of those in their classes, have discov- ered some hidden talents and brought them out into the open. Mingled with a bit of serious- ness, these musicians, singers, and speakers have come forth to make assemblies very inter- esting. Another fine aspect of this system s the variety it provides. This year we have had a little of practically everything, from Shoo, Shoo, Baby’’ in Spanish to Truth and Conse- quences; from an amateur program to a har- monious Christmas choir. We have indeed been fortunate in having these fine programs. Therefore let us raise our hats to the teachers who directed and the pupils who participated in them. Editor. ❖ ❖ And Now To-morrow It seems only yesterday that we entered high school, now so familiar, with uncertain step and shy, suspicious glances. Today we find our- selves leaving high school, daring to invade the unknown called life with only the pleasant memories of yesterday to comfort us. To-morrow! What hopes we entrust to it! Yet, that very to-morrow is destined to shower some of us with disappointment, others with great reward. To-morrow! We must be brave! To find to-morrow we must venture along a new path. In this path will lie the shadow of darkness and the light of dawn, floods to sweep us astray and the calm to lead us aright, the weariness of labor and then the glorious reward of suc- cess. All these remain to be encountered. However, at the end of every road there awaits a valley of contentment where horizons are bright and happiness is master. All these are a part of life as the sun is a part of day. To-morrow will find us well prepared. We shall seize the opportunity. We shall all wear an armor of faith, and no problem will prove itself too great. Anne Chodynicky, ’44.

Page 9 text:

THE SCREECH OWL 7 days he dwelt upon the subject of an arrange- ment by which he could walk around in safety. He thought so intently and so hard that one day something snapped in his mind. Suddenly he jumped up to set madly to work on a com- plicated device. It wasn’t long before he had it finished completely enough to walk out to the fields safely (or so he thought.) High up in his haven the god of lightning laughed louder than he had in a long time when he saw Jonathan strut forth to the fields. Bug saw the dark, menacing clouds roll up and he shouted, Come and get me if you can! The lightning god gathered himself together and with a hissing roar struck with all the blazing fury of hell. He withdrew gloating while Jonathan lay stretched out, dead as a salted herring. Now the lightning god could be happy for another million years, content only to damage property and pester people. When the neighbors found Jonathan, whom they had always regarded as a harmless idiot, they saw on him a complex maze of belts and wires which led to two cables that dragged along the ground. He must have sought to ground himself like a lightning rod, but in his mentally unbalanced state he had forgotten that the lightning in passing through his body to the ground would kill him. So ended the saga of Jonathan Bug. Edward Ledgard, ’44, School in May In the merry merry month of May.” This is a familiar line, but does it signify any cause for merriment to us in Maynard High.? With every coming day the boiling mercury climbs skyward to add blistering heat to our dreamy minds. We ask permission for a sip of water for our parched throats, but are definitely dis- couraged by the teacher’s favorite reply, NO. Our minds are constantly wandering off to the old swimming hole and the cool, bubbling brooks in vacation land. Illustrations in the magazines of Room Twenty carry our thoughts to cool breezes and refreshing ocean sprays. We open our algebra books and the numbers and symbols are transformed into illustrations before our dreaming eyes — illustrations of amusement parks at beaches, cool soft drinks, and a dip in the ocean water. Truly, the month of May is devoted to dreaming and not to efficiency at work. J. Zanceuwicz, ’47. We Freshmen Down in the corridor of Maynard High We Freshmen all trooped together; Every one of us shook in our shoes Despite the warm fall weather. A Senior who was passing by Looked at us and said, Don’t worry too much today, you know, There are many more days ahead. One room was here, another there; We thought we would never remember. We finally got it all straightened out — By this time ’twas November. The days passed quickly after that. With homework and sports and tests. And we began to love our school As well as did the rest. Although we were frightened on that first day, And thought that we would die. We all are full-fledged high-schoolers now As we cheer for Maynard High. Ann Marie Morton, ’47. One Came Back Moral: Davey wasn’t much on killing and robbing. He just wanted to be honest, but sometimes honesty can get a fellow in trouble, and sometimes it can keep him out. Just sit tight, Davey,’’ came the little man’s low words. I’ll have that dough out here before you know it. And when you see me coming outa that doorway, get ready to scoot, fast!