North Carolina School for the Deaf - Clock Tower Yearbook (Morganton, NC)

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Class Prophecy By Saraw HINSON a This being the year 1960, the period of all those thingamajigs on the market such as atomic-powered cars, atomic fuel, and yes, even atomic beds, I find that being a housewife is a rather tedious job and a sound training in mechanics is necessary. The chain reaction real- ly began when I tried out some of that new- fangled breakfast food for my progeny. The “qd” said it was the finest cereal on the market, guaranteed to make youngsters wise, healthy, and altogether perfect in conduct. Being of a curious nature, I deemed it a good idea to eat liberally of this wonderful product myself. As I was finishing my share, a strange dizziness came over me and [I started to rise from my chair. My family entirely disappeared before my eyes! In the slang of my old school days, I “blacked out”. On coming to, I found myself in a tremendous room and a great roar was in my ears. As my head stopped whirling I began to realize that the bang, clatter and clash that were so annoy- ing to my poor head came from the great number of linotype machines that filled the room. Signs on the walls were large advertise- ments of that same breakfast food—it appeared that I was in the printing department of the largest advertising firm in the country, situated in down-town New York. Feeling somewhat lost, I began looking around for a familiar face, though with small hope of finding a friend. Then on the end of the last row I saw a pair of long legs sticking straight out in front. They looked like the same pair that I had so often tripped over in school. 1 went closer and, lo and behold! their owner was a friend. A class- mate of long ago who sat that way through every class—Earl Smith. A sudden hazy film descended over Earl and his surroundings, but it soon lifted and I was strolling through a green meadow up in the Ozark Mountains of Southern Missouri. I sight- ed a small, tumbled-down hut close by, but it took me ages to get there because the mountain was steep and rocky, and I kept sliding back. As I neared it I caught sight of several ragged children playing in the yard. Then I was almost deafened by a loud scream. Hurrying up to the door I saw a small, frail woman in a long calico dress, with her hair knotted up in a bun in the back, whipping a small boy. When she saw me, she asked me in. I sat down with care because the furniture was so old and bat- tered I was afraid I would end up on the floor. The woman was nice to me and the more we talked the more familiar she seemed. I could tell she had been used to better things, but she had fallen in love and married a poor hill billy. Now she was finding life pretty bad and her hands were full, managing seven small children. My curiosity getting the better of me, I asked her where she had lived formerly and who she had been before she married. I felt as if I had been struck when she said her name was Mary Rose Whitley of Goldsboro. I remembered her as the class fashion plate. Every thing turned black again and when I regained my senses I was standing outside a huge, fenced-in yard full of noisy, playing children. As I watched a game of dodge ball a very pleasant-faced young woman approached the group to call them to supper. Glancing my way she smiled and I knew that smile at once! Angela Nelson herself, the 1949 May Queen. Hurrying to the gate to let me in she began explaining where we were. She told me she had been in charge of the small boys at this orphanage for five years, and spent her mornings, while the boys were in school, in the business office there. I remembered what an excellent typist she had been in Mrs. Shep- pard’s class so I knew she was well qualified for that part of her job; however, I wondered about the care of the children. To my surprise she told me that she loved that work and was often to be found right in there with the young-

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Class History By ANGELA NELSON Me It seems to us only yesterday that we started to school, but in reality most of us started fourteen years ago. In the fall of 1935 a tiny little girl, Mary Rose Whitley, entered the primary department with Miss Nan Jeter as her teacher. She has kept her happy smile through all the years and has evaded studying as much as possible. In 1936 the school opened its arms to three more little girls—Pearl Anders, Julia Ray and Elsie Little. After watching these three mis- chievous las sies, it was decided they were too much for one teacher so Pearl and Julia were put in Mrs. Horton’s class and Elsie in Miss Gordon’s class. Pearl soon got the nickname “Sandy” which has followed her through the years. Julia has always been the quiet, dignified member of our class. Elsie has enjoyed every- thing in school except the arithmetic periods. The two boys in our class, Earl Smith and Raleigh Mooney, entered together in 1937 with Miss Linnie Rankin as their teacher. Naturally they have been spoiled by the girls in the class. The next addition was Angela Nelson who came from Germanton Public School in 1940. She had Mrs. Bergl, the former Miss Burkette Kibler, as her teacher. Last, but not least, to join the class was Sarah Hinson who arrived in 1944 from Candler Public School. She is so gay that she has kept all of us happy. The present class was formed in 1947 with Mrs. Marie Davis as homeroom teacher. There were nine members at that time, but at Christ- mas, Mearl Morrow left us to be married. Many changes have been made since we have been in N. C. S. D. The same year our class was organized, a school library was started. Through the generosity of one of our teachers, Mrs. Jennie Law, we were able to buy a great many new books and decorate the two rooms which are used as the library. We now have approximately three thousand books. Last fall a college preparatory class was organized. Mrs. Triebert, Mr. Kubis, and Dr. Randolph are the teachers of this class. This gives the students who desire to’ go to college an opportunity to prepare for entrance exami- nations. During the years we have had our ups and cowns as well as many good times together and though we are happy to be graduating we are reluctant to leave the school and our friends here.

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sters, playing as hard as they. “You always did love ath . ,” I started to say when that old feeling swept over me and I remembered no more. My next surprise came when I came to at a large baseball stadium in Boston. They were having a big game with New York. There was a certain tall, lanky player who kept knocking home run after home run. If I had not had my smelling salts with me, I’d probably have passed out when I found that this All Star on the Boston team was none other than Raleigh Mooney, whom I had so often heard being called “Babe Ruth the second”. After the game, I wanted to meet Raleigh and find out how he did it, because I remembered so well that he had hated baseball and all other sports back at N.C.S.D. This chat was impossible because so many spectators, reporters, and camera men were swarming around him. For a time I must have gone into a coma again for I remember nothing until I found myself in a strange city somewhere in America. The exact place I cannot be sure of; how- ever, it was a prosperous town, not a city or a village, but a clean, easy-going, attractive place. I found myself in the front yard of a home. Glancing at the house I noticed it was a recently-built, white frame bungalow. An air of content and happiness was quite notice- able. To my surprise two children came run- ning out of the house. Suspecting that some- thing was up, I asked them if I could see their mother. The children, displaying the best of manners and up-bringing, invited me in and called their mother. When the mother came in, I was not surprised to find that she was Julia Ray of the Class of 1949. After the preliminary embraces and “Oh, you’re putting on weight”, I asked Julia whom she had married. Being of the same eager-to-please nature that she always was Julia quickly went to get a photo- graph of the lucky man, but at that moment, the dreaded haze began to come over me. I tried to fight it off—successfully for a moment, but just as she entered the room with the photo- graph in her hand, I felt the force becoming greater and greater. Then, as she was handing me the photograph I blacked out again. When the haze wore off, I found myself out side a large office building. I heard a newsboy crying ‘“‘Extra-Extra-read all about the office worker who captured the robbers.” Having sympathy for the lonely office workers, I pur- chased a copy. The name ‘‘Pearl Anders” leaped out! So, it was my old classmate, Pearl, who defied the robbers. Reading on, I found that she had received a liberal reward for her bra- very, plus a promotion to being chief of all the typists in that office. Pearl was certainly doing all right for herself! The next stop put me into our National Capital. Who of our class, I wondered, could be here? Is the person a senator, or perhaps a congressman or even maybe a secretary in one of the many departments? I needed to satisfy my hunger at this point, so I went into a restaurant. Seeking a clue while I waited, I began to thumb through the pages of the city directory and a familiar name met my eyes— Elsie Little! Reading on, I found that she was conducting a column ‘‘Advice to the Love Lorn”. So, Elsie is passing on what she has learned, I thought to myself. Then the haze again. Where could it be taking me now? Perhaps to New York, or even to California. This time the whirling was great- er, and the intensity of the force was over- powering. Then, all at once, I heard a voice— faintly at first—then louder. Its pitch increased till I knew that I could be only in one place—a place quite familiar to me. Becoming fully awake I said “Hush, Junior, and Ill give you your breakfast food!”