Melrose High School - Log Yearbook (Melrose, MA)

Page 19 text:

RUSH HOUR BLUES Bill Akerley Mike D’Agostino and Rick Della Pasqua BEEEEEEEEEEEEP! . . . (finally . . . thought English’d never end. French next). OUT THE DOOR - CLEAR SAILING TO THE STAIRS “Hey Tony, how ya doin’?” DOWN THE STAIRS. (Where’s my math book?!!) BACK UP THE STAIRS. (Here it is!) DOWN THE STAIRS. ACROSS THE - “Excuse me” BUMP! - “Sorry” HALL. “Hi” BY THE COMPUTER - (Why do they always have to talk in the middle of the aisle?) - ROOM. “Hello Diane.” THROUGH THE - “Hey Steve, what did you do in gym?” DOOR. DOWN THE HALL. STOP. WAIT . . .WAIT (Why don’t you leave some for the fish?!) . . . . . . WAIT . . . “FINALLY” . . . SLURP, GULP, SLURP, DRINK . . . “AHHH!” . . . THROUGH THE DOORS “Bonjour!” STOP, “excusez moi . . . excuse me . . . (Clear the throat), EXCUSE ME . . . THANK YOU” . . . (35-17-11 . . . 35-17-11 “come on” . . . 35-17-11) CLICK! (let’s see, eng . . . fre . . . math . . . phys . . .) BEEEEEEP! SHUT! SHUT! . . . DOWN THE - SHUT! (Hey! Hey! Got her again!) - HALL . . . “Let’s go, open the other door. “ACROSS THE - “Excuse me” BUMP - “Sorry” CORRIDOR. (Watch out) THROUGH THE DOOR. “GEEZ! It’s freezing!!” PUFF, PUFF, PUFF . . . STOMP! (getting late) BACK INSIDE. DOWN THE - “Hi Joanne” HALL. UP THE STAIRS RUN. . .“Jim”. . . AROUND THE CORNER . . . (plenty of time) . . . BEEEEEEEEP! “SHOOT! LATE AGAIN!!”

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THE LAST FIRST DAY Trade Grover As I sit here in this patch of morning sun, school is a distant memory. Summer has never evaporated so quickly before. I do not believe I am going back to school. I will walk through those doors for my last first day of high school. I am a senior. I slept well last night. Excitement did not snatch sleep away from me. No, it was just another summer night. When I was a child, my thoughts were of new school clothes, new friends, new teachers. I imagine the classrooms, the sound of school bells, the feel of freshly waxed floors beneath feet tight in new shoes, the smell of new books. On waking, I would hurry along so as not to be late on the first day. Today, I sit lazily savoring every last moment of the summer. Curiosity does not excite me. I have been through this eleven times before; I know what to expect. Most of the faces in the hallway will not be new to me. Yet, somehow today is different. As I walk through the heavy glass doors into the dark coolness of the building, I start my last first day of school. It is the first in a year which will be filled with lasts. It will be a good year. A year of parties and school gatherings. A year to make decisions. A year to be carefree. A year. My last year at Melrose High School. And this, my last first day, begins it all. 6

Page 20 text:

ADVANCED AGONY Into every student’s life must fall a twenty page term paper. This term paper inevitably must be footnoted - who ever said that life was easy? - and meticulously typed. (Hey Ma!) There are two basic types of term paper writers. The first, the conscientious student, uses all the time allotted to him and works diligently. This individual can be found buried beneath a mountain of 3x5 cards and a truckload of library books. These scholars craft their term papers carefully, pass them in before the deadline, and incite general nausea and insecurity among the rest of the class. The second species of writer is the Sunday shut-in. This student locks himself in a room on Sunday - the paper is due on Monday. Armed only with a typewriter, a desk lamp, and one or two insignificant books, he writes his paper as he goes along, frequently using his imagination to fill in the gaps between the facts. Hours later, the disheveled, bleary-eyed shut-in emerges from the room, term paper in ink-smeared hand. Once again, he has managed to carouse six parties, check out a friend’s new car, catch “Saturday Night Live,” play coed touch football at the Common, and still produce that wonderful term paper. Unfortunately, his grades tend to reflect the amount of time he takes to prepare his assignments. When the manuscripts are returned, this student can be found hunched in a corner of the classroom, scowling at the teacher. There is a little bit of both these characters in each of us. We all tend to work earnestly on those subjects which we like and procrastinate on those others which are not as inspiring. So. next time you agonize over a term paper, remember, you are not alone. H