Morgan Park High School - Empehi Yearbook (Chicago, IL)

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were elected to certain offices, and all that sort of thing seems trivial, inane. futile. And to describe them as entering high school quaking and dhivering would certainly be silly. No, they were anything but that,-little girls .with pig-tails, little boys in short trousers, cock-sure, impertinent, pugnacious, in- quisitive little imps, and very receptive. They studied hard, making good grades, and although they participated in school activities enthusiastically, they formed no organization of their own that year. They were too busy getting acquainted with their surroundings, and with each other, coming as they did, from five different grammar schools. In the sophomore year the class was organized, and they effected a com- promise in electing officers that were both capable and popular. They gave a dance to raise funds, and these funds were used to defray an unforeseen expense perpetrated bv a certain red-haired gentleman who already held a firmly established position of joy and light to his classmates and of horror to his teachers. The spirit that I have spoken of so glowingly was rapidly maturing dur- ing these two years, and in the third year it had become increasingly manifest. ln fact, by this time the class of twenty-three, now the junior class, had be- come the foremost in the school. They had successfully invaded everything. They had ten men on the football team: they won the interclass indoor base- ball championship, and defeated the faculty team. which was in itself a feat. They were well represented in other branches of athletics and in clubs and organizations. Two of the officers in the Students' Association were held bv juniors and several juniors had important parts in the opera. They finish- ed the year with the annual dinner that is usually given to the seniors by the juniors. This one, given to the class of '22 by the class of '23 was the most successful of any that had preceded it. No one who vwtas there will ever forget the riot of color that dominated the ordinarily drab lunch-room, with the gay balloons and strings of confetti that hung from the ceiling. They will have a lasting impression of how lovely the girls looked, how handsome all the boys were, the scintillating repartee that passed across the tables, the music, the speeches-- i Father Time: Don't forget about the menu. And do you remember how the balloons and confetti tumbled down on them as they went out and the girls all scrambled for balloons to match their dressesr? Clio: I rather abruptly, as if having been suddenly iaroused from con- templation of the picture she has been paintingl In the' senior year came the culmination, the full maturity of this unique spirit, this ideal of fun- loving democracy with which the class was so closely united. In addition to that, there came an ebullience. fostered by the realization that they were the seniors, the pride Hof the school. looked up to, envied, commented upon, admired and imitated: for every individual senior is in himself a celebrity to the gaping lower-classman. It was in the last semester that the seniors began to ap- preciate more fully the pure delight of the situation, and inner voices said to 29

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Clio: ftroubledf lt's the History of the Class of Nineteen Twenty- Three, Morgan Park High School, H043 Hermosa Avenue, Chicago, Illinois, William Schoch, principal. I-I can't do anything with it. I don't seem to be able to go about it properly. Father Time: ffacetiouslyl Why Clio, I though you had a rubber stamp or something of the sort out on these class histories, and used the same thing every year, just changing the names and the dates. Something like this, you know: lt was a terror-stricken group of little green things that timidly entered high school that first bright morning, their knees shaking and their teeth chattering in thefr heads. And as they stood huddled in despon- dent groups .... A ' Clio: fShe listened at firstwwith mild surprise and then broke into sup- pressed laughterj No! No! Father Time. Not this year! Not for this class! This is going to be entirely different, an innovation in the way of class histories. This-why this is an exceptional class, flrather Time grunts skepticallyj a remarkable exceptional class-fshe breaks off with a faraway look in her eyes., Father Time: fSlowly, ponderously, as if delivering an obiter dictum, ln the dark, dim prehistoric past there may have been a class that entered high school with fear and tremblfngn but this class certainly did not. fl-le chuckles reminiscentlyj Why, d' you remember, they were only in school a couple of months when .... Clio: fanticipating hfml Sh-there are some things better left unmen- tioned. Father Time: fdrilyl I suppose so, especially in the record of an ex- ceptional class. But at any rate, I stoutly affirm that this class did not enter high school with fear and trembling. fl-le says this last sentence as if eager to provoke argumentl. Clio: Qplacativelyj Certainly not! This, as we have mentioned before, is an exceptional class. Father Time: fstill argumentative, But Clio, that's not such a new idea in class histories. Every once in a while, in fact, at surprisingly frequent intervals you have recorded the annals of an exceptional class. - Clio: fdoubtfullyj Perhaps, but not like this one. This class admits its own distinctiveness. After due cogitation any member of it will testify, will feel conscientiously called upon to testify to its exceptionality. I myself feel justified in calling it a unique class. Father Time: You tell 'em. I'll bet if you had been on the platform during a class meeting you would have heard the president saying to the secretary, Oh my, what a class! Wlrat a class! Clio: fShe suppressefsta' smile, meditates deeply for a minute and then proceeds in rather an oratorlcal strafnj There wias something about this class, so indefinable, so rarely found elsewhere, that it seems impossible to chronicle it properly. To record that they did thus and sb, that certain people 28

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every member of the class of twenty-three, This is your last semester! Make the most of it! That is why the seniors have had so much to say to one another, in the halls, on entering class, in the division room and in the study hall. The teachers were obliged to reprimand them frequently, but no doubt they laughed up their sleeves as they did so, at the fervor, the vehemence which the seniors were anxiously pouring into every remaining moment of their school lives. They were infusing this spirit into everything they did, making every little issue a subject for serious, heated, and voluble discussion. Father Time: Don't forget about civics, the debates, room 404 in the Sherman House, and the man on horseback. No matter how exceptional the class is you can't leave that out. Clio: Of course, I suppose they debated on the same old subjects, but I am sure that they treated them in a manner entirely new and ingenious. As I was saying, every little event provoked an enormous amount of comment- discourse that seemed absolutely necessary in spite of the conviction of certain teachers to the contrary. Father Time: Yes, the presidential election last fall, and then later, the photographeris proofs and the questionnaires. Clio: Ah yes, the last is but another striking instance of the originality of this class. The old form of questionnaire that had been in use for the past decade or so was denounced as inadequate and a new one was devised by a couple of their cleverest girls, with the result that a large portion of the class developed insomnia. f Father Time grunts expressivelyj. Clio: Well, much as they had to say, they were often inarticulate, so over-flowing were they with the joy of living. But even when, suddenly con- science-stricken perhaps, they hurried to classes without stopping to talk, they looked at one another with eyes that said, Aren't you glad you're alive? Isn't it fun to be a senior? And when, silenced in the study hall, they lifted their heads from their books to gaze out of the windows, from whence blew beguiling spring breezes, of wihat were they thinking? The future? Perhaps, but more likely tlte present, and how good it was to live. And thus contem- plating life, no wonder it was hard to turn from the fascinating skyline form- ed by the portable roofs and chimneys and the mosaic of feathery green elms against a turquoise blue sky, to a thick old book telling about the French Revolution and other events of negligible importance. However, the hardest lesson that twenty-three had to learn was that one cannot be a senior forever: that the time allotted to that delicious experience is short, very short. They count the weeks, the days, and June is here. At last the seniors are repressed, chastened, and subdued, as with expectancy, sparkling eyes, and pink cheeks, they march up to get their diplomas. Their high school careers are finished: they have completed the required course of study. But is that all? What of those who have so patiently, so kindly, and so expertly guided them and taught them not only problems in mathematics, the structure of languages, deeds of earlier men, and laws of nature, but have directed them to ends worth striving for and means worthy of them: have 30