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

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The Mistake There was great excitement in the Brown ' s house- hold, because finally the long-awaited day had come, the day that Marie, the only child was to be married. Amid the tooting of horns, ringing of the tele- phone, and all the excitement, Mrs. Brown sat think- ing of all she had done to make this day the happiest one in her daughter’s life, and of the many hours she had spent shopping and preparing for this big occasion. Finally, when she couldn ' t wait any longer, she went up to her daughter’s room, expecting to see her dressed in her beautiful gown, but instead, as she entered the room, Marie was crying bitterly. Mrs. Brown tried to comfort her daughter, but it was useless, and amid her sobs she told her mother that on the way home from the hairdressers, she had seen Bob, her future husband, in a jewelry store with Helen, carefully placing a string of pearls about Helen’s neck. As Mrs. Brown was trying to explain to Marie that it must have been some kind of a mistake, the doorbell rang. It was the delivery boy with a pack- age for Marie. As she opened it a little card fell from the package which said, A string of precious gems to a more precious girl. With Love — Bob.” As she read this, tears came to her eyes, for she realized how foolish she had been in doubting Bob’s love for her. And as she walked down the aisle of the church, with her father, she glanced down at the beautiful string of pearls which hung about her neck and with much love in her heart joined Bob at the altar. Barbara Prosper, ’52 Problem of the Year Tis a nignt before midyears such as you’ve never seen— My desk is all cluttered, my complexion turned green. I’ve studied and crammed as never before, I can barely see, my eyes are so sore. Time is just flying, faster than ever, If I capture a C” I’ll think myself clever. It is already midnight, Mom is in bed. But me, I am studying. Oh ! My poor head ! ! Latin’s before me, my most dreaded test, B ut all I can do is to try my best. English is cinchy! (Or at least that’s my hope) . But to get through with Algebra I’ll have to take dope. ( Science frightens me, for I’ll never know What makes Mr. Lerer’s favorite bacteria grow. Or care about lenses, short, thick, or thin — (Don’t know which way I’m going or where I have been) . I’ve waited and waited till the very last moment, And now look, I’m in complete mental torment. Well! One o’clock! May as well turn in, Myself, plus my pencils, my books, and my pen. Otherwise tomorrow I’ll sleep through each test I take — Then I can imagine what a high mark I’d make! Sandra Stammers, ’54 Initiation The Brooks High School freshmen had tradition- ally been initiated ever since the days their parents had been students there. It was the first day of school and you know what that meant for fourteen year old Will Black, a fresh- man ! Every other morning Will had hurried through breakfast, so he’d get to school on time. This morn- ing, however, although he was just as late as ever, but a little more nervous, he ate so slowly that his mother almost called the doctor, fearing he was sick. After convincing his mother he was not sick, he ran upstairs to his room where he put on a disguise. He made a cute girl ! For once he appreciated his sister Judy. She had given him a dress and wig so he could go to school incognito, and avoid initiation! This disguise would have been perfect if he had only remembered to roll up his pants legs. They hung 21 2 inches below the dress. He ran to school feeling sure his identity was care- fully concealed, but he became very uneasy when the seniors snickered as he passed ! When he reached school he went in through the girls’ door, slipped through the corridor almost un- noticed, and managed to hide his disguise before any- one saw him at his locker. The fear of being recognized overcame him early in the morning, for he knew what they did to the timid, here at Brooks H. S. ! Will got home without the disguise, or should I say almost got home! When he reached his front walk. Red, the senior football hero, gave him a big smile and handed him the evening paper. Right on the front page of The News” was his picture! It was taken, evidently, just as he was entering school in 25 )

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Yes,” answered the nurse. There’s no other way out. If you want to live you’ll have to give up your hands. With your permission the operation will be performed tomorrow m orning at 10 o ' clock. As Gail listened, she realized just what the nurse meant. She’d never be able to play the piano again. All her hopes and dreams were fading out of sight. The only thing she ever really wanted and she couldn’t have it. Gail then grew hysterical. Between sobs she screamed at the top of her lungs. She yelled about how she hated the world and all the people in it, and most of all how she hated the person who had done this terrible thing to her. The nurse gave her some hypodermics to quiet her nerves and finally Gail dozed off. The next morning Gail woke early. She was rather woozy, but she was clear on one thing. She would go through with the operation but afterwards she would be very bitter about it and her new pastime would be to make life just as miserable as she could for every- one. The operation was successfully performed at 10 that morning and both of Gail’s hands were ampu- tated. Gail completely recovered consciousness at about 7:30 that evening. All she could think of was where she would be and what she would be doing that evening if nothing had happened. But no, she had to be in a hospital bed with nothing but stubs for hands. Her one consolation was that everyone who had planned to attend her debut would be feel- ing sorry for her. The next day Gail was allowed to receive visitors. Her mother and father came, but Gail made such bit- ter remarks to her mother that she went away in tears. For the next week she was allowed to walk around the hospital and hospital grounds for an hour a day. Once Gail went down to the main lounge. One of the nurses was in there playing a piece which Gail, too, had played. Just the sound of the instrument made her shiver and shake and she hastily left the room before she was noticed. In two weeks time, she received her new hands. The physical therapist fastened them on Gail and showed her how to do some exercises which Gail reluctantly practiced. Every morning the physical therapist showed her how to do something new, such as picking up a spoon, or holding a glass of water. But Gail didn’t try very hard. Her heart was like lead ; she was very melancholy. She wanted no part of these ugly claws which had disrupted her life. But the hands were so easy to operate that Gail couldn’t help learning. At the end of two months’ time, hav- ing learned everything the therapist could possibly teach her, Gail was discharged from the hospital. When she went home she felt useless. She longed to play the piano and sometimes she sat in front of it for hdurs crying. One day when no one was at home Gail sat down and started to pick out the scale with one finger. Her so-called claws got tangled up, but now she knew something. She still wanted to be a concert pianist. And now, conquering the piano with her new hands would be her ultimate goal. She practiced faithfully every day. At first with only one finger, then with one hand, and finally at the end of six months of hard work, Gail could play simple tunes with two hands. It was hard going, and sometimes Gail con- tinued to practice. She went from simple, to easy, to hard, and finally after three years of steady work she went into advanced music. She practiced for an- other year and a half and in November, 1949, she made an appointment to see if she could make her debut in 1950. Gail went to Symphony Hall, Boston, on Novem- ber 9th. The manager listened to her play. All through her audition wild thoughts rushed through Gail’s head. What if she didn’t make it? What would she do then ? What if he wouldn’t let her play because of her hands? When she had finished, she knew she had played well. But had it been well enough ? Soon she would know. The grey-haired man began to speak. First of all, he complimented Gail on her playing, and told her she had played bet- ter than he ever thought anyone with artificial hands could. He also said that he would be most happy and proud to have her make her debut in Symphony Hall. He set the date for Wednesday evening, May 21, 1951, at 8 o’clock, just five years after she had been originally scheduled to perform. The time passed quickly and soon May 21 arrived. Symphony Hall was packed and when Gail came out on the stage, the crowd went wild. They clapped and applauded until Gail herself silenced them. Gail then played her program and she was an astonishing suc- cess. The crowd whistled, shouted and threw flowers to the talented young pianist — a girl who hadn’t let a major thing like losing both hands stop her from attaining her ultimate goal. ( 24 ) Janice Morgan, ’52

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that terrible disguise. The picture, however, wasn’t half as shocking to him as what was printed under- neath it! The P.T.A. asked the co-operation of the seniors in the abolishment of the annual Freshman initiation. The seniors decided to start the Freshman-Senior re- lationship off by choosing a Queen of the Freshman Class. Since this new girl was first seen this morn- ing, we knew at once she would take the prize, so we took this picture of her entering school this morning! We also took the honor of presenting a wardrobe of Queen ' s dresses, to the sister of the winner, Judy Black. We are quite sure there isn’t a prettier queen in the freshman class, and we are also sure Will will never be mistaken for a she” again!” The Photographers of The News Will ripped the paper to tiny pieces, then sat down and tried to figure a way out of this, because he knew he’d never live it down. How Will wished he had been initiated! I mean, of course, the regular way. It might have hurt him, but at least he wouldn’t have been the talk of the town” for a week! Barbara Crottv, ’54 Youth and Popular Music Popular music is a vital part of the teenager ' s life. Although most adults think it is a waste of time and labor, if you stop to think about it, you will find out why the teenagers like it so well. Popular music will fit into the various moods of the teenagers and will also help him to express his feelings. Depending on the mood he is in, when a teenager picks a song on the jukebox, he has a choice of anything from a slow dreamy ballad to a lively tune with a jump beat. If he feels like celebrating, you can expect some loud, jumpy tune. If he has just had a fight with his favorite girls, you can expect some romantic song with a haunting melody. One reason why adults don’t like popular music is because it never lasts very long. A song that is pop- ular one week may be forgotten by the next. This is due to the teenager’s ever changing likes and dis- likes. Just as a fad lasts until the novelty is worn off, so popular music lasts until a new favorite is uncov- ered. Popular music is very cleverly put together. It is pleasing to the ear, and easy to listen to. There is a melody to suit every teenager’s taste. The beautiful lyrical ballads and the catchy novelty tunes are the works of artists in their field. ( 26 ) Listening to records, whether on the radio, the phonograph, or the jukebox, occupies a great deal of the teenager’s time. Popular music is an integral part of his education, as well as one of his favorite pas- times. Barbara Mitzcavitch, ’52 Our English Language Our English Language is wonderful, ’tis true, It’s spoken and written by quite a few. But sometimes it’s hard to understand, This language of ours, which is really so grand. Now wait just a minute and you will see, What I mean when I say, It’s like Greek to me.” A girl is often called a gal, But who would call a curl a cal ? A big boat is a battleship, But whose big coat is a cattleship ? A small house is a hut, Then why isn’t a small mouse a mut? Two or more louses are called lice, But who calls their blouses blice? The plural of tooth is teeth, Then why isn’t the plural of youth yeeth? A fancy name for mother is mater, But who calls their brother, brater? A young cow is a calf, But whose young plow is a plaf? A joke is sometimes known as a jest, Then why isn ' t a poke a pest? A dollar bill is called a buck, But who ever called a hill a huck? About these peculiarities, there’s nothing I can do, So I guess I’ll have to accept them as true, Our English is really wonderful, but don’t you agree That it should be simpler for people like you and me? Janice Morgan, ’52 Tippy Black and white and just pint size Sleek and slim with dark brown eyes, This priceless jewel I would not trade For all the money that was ever made. His pleading whine when sweets he sees Makes me give in instead of tease. Chasing cats is his delight Until the feline turns to fight. To school with me each day he walks — I only wish that he could talk! Priscilla Woodbury, ' 51